O2
by Zeki Young
Summary: Never mind Flamingo. This was blatant Seagull behaviour." An alternative take on P.C. - No play, No store, No shooting, and shock... No kiss on the sidewalk... but most importantly, NO IDIOTIC DEATH! :)


**A/N I**: First off, I have to say a big thank you to the wonderful **Dee**, who beta'd this fic. Dee, you're great and I appreciate everything you do. Thank you.

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Summary**: "Never mind Flamingo. This was blatant Seagull behaviour." An alternative take on P.C. - No play, No store, No shooting, and shock... No kiss on the sidewalk... but most importantly, No death :)

**Copyright**: No infringement of copyright intended. I do borrow from the West Wing script of the "_Posse Comitatus_" episode, but this is really just for a spot of fun.**  
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**Author**: Zeki

**Rating**: Teen-ish I guess, but there's nothing bad here folks.

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A/N II**: If anyone's still reading these CJ/Simon fan fics... feedback is so very awesome - any Simon Is Alive love still out there!

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**O2**

Central Park in May is a fairy tale scene, awash in sunlight and greenery. On this particular summer's evening, there was a slight breeze lightly ruffling the leaves on the trees. Standing at the window in the pool Secret Service room at the luxurious Ritz-Carlton hotel, Simon Donovan went through his last checks before going on duty.

The occasion was a Catholic charity fund-raiser – dinner, speeches, and afterwards, a ball. All this meant penguin suits there on in.  
Simon sighed, inwardly admitting that he wasn't really a tux kind of guy. Why this mattered to him right then, he wasn't too sure. He had been told a few times that they looked good on him – hell, even Pam had (rather embarrassingly) wolf whistled regarding his function wear once. What's more, he could work in any attire. Being stuck in a stuffy tuxedo shouldn't bother him at all. But, he supposed, like everyone else, he had his own personal preferences: cargo pants and a t-shirt... a comfy jumper... his leather jacket. Mind, he was beginning to question if he had a little too much 'silver' on top to be wearing a leather jacket. Thinking about it, he reminded himself that he hadn't actually ridden his Kawasaki in far too long, and it wasn't like he dated that often either. Suddenly the words of his protectee came fluttering back to him: "You're no fun!" She had accused. It was true, he guessed – for someone whom the younger female agents seemed to always want to shadow, he was pretty unlucky in the romance department, and maybe that was why. His job had let him lose sight of fun. Simon bucked himself up and sighed, no, it wasn't that – he could be plenty of fun. Resigned to the fact, he admitted to himself that maybe Anthony was right: he was just slow witted when it came to women. Simon's Little Brother teased him relentlessly on the subject, and it was probably the only area in which the Agent should really do with learning from the boy. Women, let's face it, confused the hell out of him.

Shaking his head, he flipped the safety off of his magnum. There was nothing confusing about the weapon that had fully become an extension of his right arm. He drew it quickly, snapping his hands into place, aiming at a seagull floating by. Hateful birds. Simon had a healthy respect for most things in this world, but Seagulls were not one of them. It had all started when he'd been based in the port of Brindisi,Italy. The then young and playfully cheeky Pvt. Donovan had found himself on the Platoon Sergeant's wrong side, and consequently ended up cleaning bird excrement off every Army vehicle in the camp. Every day for six months. He'd never forgive those damn obnoxious birds; he swore they must have known exactly what they were doing.

Interrupting his musings, a shrill cry from the ugly beast flying around outside his window brought him back to the evening ahead. He holstered his gun and checked his shoelaces one last time.

Rushing around her room, CJ frantically got herself ready; she was running late. The Vera Wang hung beautifully over her slim figure. A halter-neck, it was a graceful plain black affair, with the soft, flowing lines of the dress making an elegant 'v' from the straps down into the bodice. The main body of the gown was overlaid with a draped waist detail of sheer material, brought into a simple twist at the front before flowing down to the floor. The design showed off the smooth skin on CJ's back, the sweep of the silk drawing in just low enough to turn a few heads. The air on her skin made her feel alive,and she needed to feel alive. Ordinarily, a dress like this would have been savoured, kept for another, more important occasion. Maybe she was a fool, but the way he had looked at her... it had been a long time since she had appreciated one of those stares. Taking a glance in the full-length mirror, she toyed with the idea of leaving the wrap behind. Swaying bear foot as if dancing, she smiled in an unjustifiable surge of anticipation.

There was a forceful knock at her door. 7PM exactly. No prizes for guessing who it was.

"Agent Donovan!" She greeted him with an icy, busy tone that refused to extend to her eyes, "I haven't seen you in – ooh"  
"Eight hours." He was gruff, but there was a trace of a grin - she looked taken-a-back - he'd been counting too.  
"Yeah"  
"Are you ready?" He tried not to look at what the gorgeous dress didn't cover. His fists clenched at his sides, he rocked ever so slightly on his heels. She was doing this on purpose. Never mind Flamingo. This was blatant Seagull behaviour.

Without a word, she sauntered off back into her room to get her shoes,  
giving the man in her doorway a heart-stopping view of her uncovered back. Simon found his mind wondering how ticklish she was. There was something about the arch in women's backs that got him every time. Squeezing his eyes shut, he chastised himself and promised he wouldn't do this! He wasn't going to go there. Not now, not ever. She was obnoxious and difficult, ungrateful and curt. There. He internalised the mantra. Forget the personalities. He opened his eyes. Thankfully, she had covered her perfectly smooth-looking skin with an equally soft silk wrap. With her small matching handbag in hand, she started towards him.

Sweeping past the man holding the door open for her – the way he wasn't allowed to do – CJ collared the urge to smack him playfully over the back of the head and remind him about it. Instead, she took a deep breath, put one heeled foot before the other and prepared to embark on their daily duel.

Simon stepped onto the elevator behind her, turning and firmly punching the button for the lobby. CJ self-consciously smoothed her dress while his back was turned.  
"I'll be staying close tonight, lots of people"  
"Simon, we've been doing this for three weeks now, I know-" Her tone was nonchalant, he turned to face her.  
"Do you?" His eyebrows were raised; CJ thought he looked lovely all worked up like that. Her 'cute' smile did nothing – it touched nothing in the professional agent. He was momentarily proud of himself: "I mean do you really?" Annoyed at his attitude, CJ felt some of the anger and frustration born of the whole situation rise up inside her.  
"I- yes I do!" The generic bell denoting their floor served as a well-timed interruption; the doors opened onto a gaggle of people, at the centre of which sat the President talking animatedly with Leo, Toby and Sam in a small seating area. No doubt they were putting the finishing touches to the evening's speech, and catching a glimpse, CJ wanted in on the action – and out of the confined space with her bodyguard that was starting to feel smaller. Yet Simon held his ground, wanting sincerely to make sure she knew this was no time for games – no time for near kisses or whatever she wanted to call it. CJ nodded over the Secret Service man's shoulder, subconsciously wrapping her arms around herself.  
"You go first." Simon sighed, sure she was right, but he held her eyes for a moment. There was nothing easy about this detail. He turned sharply on his heel, stepping into the room, his eyes scanning the crowd. At least, he consoled himself, this way he didn't have to control himself in the face of a view of her exposed back.

The dinner went well, The President made his speech and received a standing ovation as he wound it up. Before they knew it, the post-banquet ball was upon them. The guest list boasted a variety of Catholic dignitaries, political figures and celebrities – including the championship-winning Notre Dame football team.

The large, lavishly decorated hotel ballroom filled quickly, a lively buzz to the air. The resident orchestra struck up and began to play.  
Having spent the better part of the dinner at the side well out of the way, Simon prepared for the next leg of the evening. Pam and Steve flanked him as they tailed the laughing Press Secretary from the dining hall, before peeling off leaving Simon on CJ's heels. CJ had her arm looped through Sam's, she stayed close to him as they picked their way through the smiling crowd. He looked unperturbed by her uncharacteristically clingy hold on him; he had a 'stupid-happy' grin on his face – he had done a good job on the speech. Toby met them with an awkward slap of congratulations to Sam's shoulder and a tight smile; the threesome headed for the bar.

Raising her glass of Jack Daniel's, CJ had briefly chosen to forget about the silver haired man who had so cruelly brushed off her botched attempt at a kiss. It had been brutally painful – admit it or not, she had invested a lot of trust and feeling to that damn man: 'sure he can't' her mind teased – it was probably just a get out clause. He was emphatic about it that morning in her office. 'I can't date... I can't kiss'! Surely if he actually wanted to... her thoughts were interrupted:

"Care to dance?" The deep voice belonged to the star of the Notre Dame team, quarterback Andy Reno. He was a dreamy brown-eyed youngster, and despite his six-foot four frame, he was a slight presence, gentle and warm. CJ turned lazily round to face him fully, a confident smile on her face. Known for his charm and kindness, CJ was hardly about to say no. Besides, what better way to get back at Mister Secret Service, "it's m'job ma'am," than dancing with someone nearly half his age? Leaving her wrap and purse with Toby, she took to the dance floor.

Simon's heartbeat picked up. His eyes refused to carry out their duties. Scanning the room was binned – his gaze was locked on the scene before him. The music had livened a little, and there was CJ – yes, his protectee – his "Flamingo" no less – dancing cheek to cheek with a young, tall, attractive, athletic, good looking – did he mention that already? Footballer. Reno. He was going to go pro next season. He was on the cover of all the sports magazines. He had it all – career, looks, fame, personality. And there he was. Dancing with his woman – correction... protectee, client, boss... his off limits woman. Fists clenched at his side, as they had been upon seeing her for the first time in that dress, Simon thought he might be physically sick with envy. The shrill ring of his phone briefly chased the nausea away.

A strange feeling coursed through his body as he hung up. 'It's over' the words ran through his mind and found their way onto his lips. A smile broke over his face. Suddenly, he was speaking into his wrist mic. "10-50, this is Donovan, they have my guy." He stood there, half way between self-satisfaction and shock as to the door the news opened.  
"Good job, boss." Pam's rich voice brought him back to the present.  
"Yeah – you too, thanks Pam." They stood side by side, still watching the crowd, their combined gaze falling on their former protectee.  
"So you gonna tell her?" Simon grunted, folding his arms over his chest. "Boss"  
"Maybe later"  
"I'd imagine she'd like to know now"  
"She's... busy." Simon tore his eyes from the swaying couple in the middle of the dance floor. CJ was smiling up into Andy Reno's young,  
tanned face – they shared a small joke, they giggled like the kid he was. Pam met her boss' tight-jawed frown with a wide grin.  
"I'm really sure she'd want to know." He looked back at the dance floor; jealousy wasn't the half of it.  
"She's enjoying that he's tall." Pam's grin widened knowingly.  
"So this is about last night?" Simon didn't hear her, or the words he'd just spoken– the fact that his thoughts were forming freely on his lips didn't even occur to him.  
"Makes her feel more feminine." He grumbled, his companion chuckled lightly.  
"I never thought I'd see the green monster in you, boss." A long blink and his eyes were back on his agent.  
"What? I mean... excu"  
"I'd have to be blind to miss the pass she made – what did you say?  
'No'? 'Don't'? 'I can't'?" Had it been anyone else on any given day,  
Pam knew she would have been pushing her luck, but somehow, she felt like he needed this kick.  
"The last one." Simon turned fully to her, his eyes were brimming with feeling. She was surprised to see this side of her boss. Sure, he could be playful and cheeky off duty, but emotions – they had always been somewhat off limits. "I said: I can't. She said drop it, then this morning she said that she didn't even try and..." Suddenly he stopped; Pam followed his gaze as his jaw went loose: Reno's hands had slipped further south, and before she knew it, Agent Donovan was off into the crowd.

CJ's eyes had fluttered closed, her cheek coming to rest against the footballer's neck, his aftershave was rich and manly, his skin soft.  
It was comforting to be held, and she didn't care that he was too young for her – his arms were a strong and convenient shield from her world: from the pressures of her job, from the fear of her stalker, and mostly from the swelling feelings for her protector. As they drifted in little circles with the melody emanating from the orchestra, she let her mind go. It had been so long since someone had held her like this; the fact that her partner's hands had shifted down her body hardly even registered. His warmth reminded her of a sunbeam's embrace.

"I'm cutting in." Simon announced his presence, blatantly squaring up to the athlete who was a good four inches taller than him. Suddenly, like cloud cover in the sky, her source of warmth moved away just a little. One hand remained in the small of her uncovered back. Andy's soft voice bore a hint of indignation:  
"I'm sorry, you are"  
"Secret Service, Mr Reno. Give it up." CJ felt the colour drain from her face. A deep-seated anger rose in her. Her lips refused to form words, her mouth just hung slightly open, her eyes wide.  
"CJ?" Andy looked between CJ and Simon, who were locked in an intense stare.  
"Agent Donovan?" CJ practically spat like a venomous snake. Simon looked to the kid, his fists balling at his sides, and back to her.  
She could see his blood was boiling and damn, 'let it,' she thought.  
"I need – to talk to you"  
"You're talking now"  
"Alone." He looked pointedly at Andy once more. The youngster got the hint, and leaning into CJ's body, he all but whispered into her ear – making sure the competition heard every word.  
"Come find me, I won't go far." With that, he placed a chaste kiss on her cheek, a gesture she made no attempt to shy away from, instead just pulling herself up beyond her normal height to match Simon's in her heels.

Simon stood with a perfectly straight back, his sharp blue eyes challenging CJ's. His lips were pressed together so tightly, they were white. With the last ounce of professionalism that remained in him, he forced the news out:  
"We have him"  
"You? What does that mean"  
"You heard me, we have him." Simon raised his voice involuntarily,  
his face beginning to form into a tight scowl. CJ was forced to move closer as the dancing crowd passed around them. She nodded.  
"So it's done"  
"Yes ma'am." She nodded, smiling for a moment, ignoring the thick tone of resentment that had seeped uncharacteristically into his voice.  
"Well, it's been fun"  
"What"  
"Having you around"  
"Fun! Is that what you think this has been about! Has this all been a little game to you"  
"Simon, people are looking"  
"Then let them look!" His outburst turned a few heads and made the space around them briefly larger before the crowd closed in on the next bar of the soft Verdi.  
"Maybe if we didn't shout so much?" Heads were turning, eyes flicking away as they passed. Simon drew in a sharp breath and took CJ by the arm, guiding her in front of him through the crowd. CJ was beginning to regret leaving her wrap with Toby as they found their way to an alcove at the side of the room. Simon, upon reaching their destination spun her around, the skin that the dress exposed failing to bother him now.

All the fire that had been in his voice and eyes was gone. What replaced it was something utterly indeterminable.  
"You know, since this started, you've acted like this is all my fault – which is a pretty hard case to argue"  
"I don't think any of it's your fault, and I appreciate all that you've done"  
"And I gotta say there are times when it seems that you like me"  
"I do like you"  
"And then you just walk off and stick it to me – like with 'that'  
just now!" Guilt flooded her stomach; there was no denying that she was trying to get a reaction out of him. She looked down in shame and he continued: "God, CJ it's just stupid!" It _was_ stupid – hadn't he got the hint by now? 'Men!' She thought... damn them needing everything spelled out:  
"I said I do like you"  
"I meant the other way"  
"So did I, Simon. I tried to kiss you"  
"You said you didn't"  
"I was lying, you idiot"  
"Then what was that with Reno?" He spat the footballer's name in jealousy and disgust. It knocked her back, but there was no reason he should get that part, she reasoned.  
"I was..." She took a deep breath and found his eyes, "upset"  
"What, you were trying to get back at me"  
"No – yes, I mean, I thought when you said you couldn't... it sounded like an excuse"  
"It wasn't! CJ, someone was trying to kill you! I couldn't be... I watched you for three seconds trying on dresses in Barney's and the guy showed up... I couldn't be"  
"Wait, you watched me at Barney's?" She smiled curiously at his admission, the guilt beginning somehow to slowly lift.  
"CJ," he warned, "I couldn't keep my eyes, my mind – if you weren't so – urgh! This would be easy!"

His breath was taken away in an instant as her lips softly met his for a moment before she drew back, trying to gauge his reaction.  
"Breathe, Simon." He nodded. His eyes had slipped shut in contentment, a grin creeping its way across his lips as he pulled her flush to his body, drawing her in for a more substantial kiss. Passion was undoubtedly present, but a comforting level of tenderness prevailed. Letting his hands finally meet the precious silkiness that was her bare back, Simon tentatively moved to deepen the kiss as she arched her slim form into him. The tip of his tongue gently ran tenderly along her bottom lip, eliciting a heavy sigh as she fell into him. Feeling like his world had been positively turned upside down, Simon gradually ended the kiss. He felt weak and was shaking slightly;  
his breaths were raspy and rushed. Softly, he felt her fingers smoothing down the lapel over his heart that she had gripped so tightly in stopping herself from collapsing in a loved-up heap on the floor.  
"Thank you." She whispered, her breath warming the skin over his Adam's apple.  
"You're welcome." He gasped, nuzzling his temple to her hair.  
"Seriously." She murmured. They smiled, still refusing to let go. CJ slid her arms around her Secret Service Man's back, she rested her head on his shoulder, inhaling his comforting scent as she nestled her face in the crook of his neck. Simon wrapped her up a little tighter in his embrace, lightly kissing her hair.  
"Where was he?" Simon tried to pull away to bring CJ's eyes to his.  
She held him fast, pressing her closed eyes against the slightly stubble-rough skin further up his neck.  
"Stopped his train at Trenton"  
"Where was he going?" At this point, he refused to let her hide,  
drawing her face away from him, he rested his forehead against hers.  
Still, her eyes were squeezed shut, her shoulders tense.  
"Here... He wasn't gonna do anything to you." CJ opened her eyes and was met with an unrelenting gaze, his assurance of her safety tangible.  
"So this is over..." Simon felt his heart take a nose dive towards his feet; the thought of her with Andy Reno burst back into his mind like the first bright flash of a migraine. His thoughts must have flitted across the glassy surfaces that were his eyes. "I meant for me," she qualified, seeing relief melt away the doubt from those deep crystal pools.  
"You can drive your car, walk in a crowd, eat a grapefruit, do what you want..." CJ moved closer, her body relaxing as she brushed her cheek to his before speaking in an unintentionally husky tone.  
"How about a dance"  
"Sure, you can dance." The smirk on his face earned him a cheeky peck on the lips before he released her from his arms and guided her gently back into the crowd, his fingertips never leaving the slightly concave arch of her back.

Andy Reno looked out on the dance floor over the rim of a glass. One of his team-mates nudged him and asked who he'd been dancing with. At that moment, his eyes caught the slight shimmer of the black material that showcased CJ Cregg. The Silver Secret Service Man was shepherding her back into the middle of the dance floor. He watched in silence, ignoring his friend's question. The music took a turn to a slower,softer melody, soft notes from the piano floating over its accompaniment. The man took the Press Secretary in his arms with a tenderness Andy had never witnessed before. All of a sudden, he was overtaken by a surge of emotion in his stomach. She looked blissfully happy. When asked again who he had been dancing with, he simply smiled and shook his head, "It doesn't matter... now."

END-

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**A/N III**: This fic was inspired by Sting's "_When we Dance_" - it's a beautiful song, my favourite version is on the live album "_All This Time_", recorded on the night of 9/11. A simply beautiful, heart-felt album all the way through. 

'_We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature._' - Lincoln as quoted by Danny Vineyard in "_American Hisotry X_".

Peace,  
Zk.


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